Don't Go

A Poem by Angela Talbert

I never called him Daddy

Dad was less heartbreaking

for two young children living so far away.

Not many kids could say

“My Dad is a fireman,

a fire chief, a real life hero”.

Still many had Christmas and birthdays,

we had mail and you cannot hug mail.

Still I knew he loved us,

My brother and me

and we loved him as if he was always

with us.

Days turned to years

siren strained tears

dried with age.

When they broke the news,

it was a beautiful day,

like nothing was looming.

They invited us over for pizza

Pizza…

they told us he had pancreatic cancer

that he would be

retiring early…

the meaning of those words

lingered...

took a while for me to figure out.

Six months I mourned the man

I needed desperately

memories

like old home movies

played over and over.

Don’t go!

My silent screams echoed into outer space

still though,

time ripped him away

stole my “Daddy”.

I realized too late,

so many things.

The day he died

it was a beautiful day...

like nothing was looming.

The sun streamed in

on his face,

I held his hand

in place,

whispered

“it’s ok Dad”

as he let go

of me

again.

© 2008 Angela Talbert

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Reviews

Mark

"...as he let go of me, again."
Wow.
This poem touches deep places within me that I cannot yet investigate, as my father and I never had a warm or close relationship. When I went to his funeral, it was strictly to be a comfort for my sister, and all but laughed out loud at the many people who told me what a rock he was, what a gentle spirit, etc., ad nauseum. Now twenty years on, God is allowing me to remember some of the loving things he did, and some of the happy times we had, that my preteens', teens' and twenties' memories had overwritten. That your father gave you sadness, there is no denying, But you were able to keep your love nestled deep within a sacred place, and were able to call it out when it was needed; how i envy you! A lovely and evocative piece, Angie.